


better take it back, joseph

by peterandhispirate



Category: Twenty One Pilots, joshler - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Daddy Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, SET ME ON FIRE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 12:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7533508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterandhispirate/pseuds/peterandhispirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Needless to say, Josh wasn't pleased; he gnashed his teeth and  narrowed his eyes and fucking growled, because why did Tyler Joseph, of all people, think he had the audacity to say that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	better take it back, joseph

**Author's Note:**

> i fucking love the enemies to friends to lovers trope so fuck it have another one of these high school aus

And to think it all started when Tyler fleetingly said Josh looked like a men's bathroom wall.

You can't really blame him, though: the kid's arms were dominated by swirling, spiraling ink. Some of it made sense, and some of it didn't.

Needless to say, Josh wasn't pleased; he gnashed his teeth and narrowed his eyes and fucking _growled_ , because why did _Tyler Joseph_ , of all people, think he had the audacity to say that?

The kid wore sweaters and floral shirts and nail polish, after all, which hardly added up to an equal opponent.

Or so Josh thought at the time.

As it turns out, Joseph was a master at pushing buttons. He practically had an honor's degree in rubbing salt into wounds and getting under people's skin.

(No wonder he had about as many friends as Josh: zero.)

The school sort of treated their interactions like a wildlife documentary: unpredictable, feral, and always interesting.

And sort of saddening sometimes, if you counted all of the times Josh had locked himself in a bathroom stall afterwards and cried.

Because that "sticks and stones" shit must've been made up by some asshole who had his heart removed.

(And yes, Tyler struck too close to home now and then. Said things like "where's your daddy, Dun?" or "you're like a walking Goodwill.")

So sobbing hysterically in the men's bathroom behind a rickety metal door was pretty understandable; at least to him.

 

"C'mon, Joshua, you're lacking in balls _and_ a father. Just give it up, man."

(He would not.)

"Still waiting for you to take it back," he gritted out in response, bristly as ever.

"Which statement? Because I'm pretty sure I've sent you running with your tail between your legs a number of times," Tyler snorted, one brow raised and a stupid, smug look on his face.

Josh would've punched him if he didn't fear getting suspended.

(He had promised his mom he'd get through all of high school. Graduate. Pick up where his father left off long ago.)

"All of it, then," he seethed, teeth grinding together. "Take it all back, Joseph."

"In your dreams, Mr. Daddy Issues. Now move your punk ass aside. I need to get to second period - you know, education and all that." And as Tyler brushed proudly past him, it was added in a sneer, "Something you probably don't understand or care about."

Josh stared after him, rage simmering in the pit of his stomach and bubbling up his throat.

_"I'm giving you a month or two until you drop out, Dun. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree."_

Those that passed him in the corridor gave him fearful looks, considering the way he was quivering and his hands were balled into white-knuckled fists.

But he paid them no mind, because thoughts of proving Tyler Joseph wrong were running circles in his head.

 

Every A he got on a test was promptly waved under Tyler's nose.

~~He wasn't like his father. He _wasn't_.~~

"Dumb luck," Joseph would growl through his slightly-crooked teeth. "You got lucky."

"Oh, really? That's what you've been saying for the last two weeks," Josh practically purred out in response, grinning toothy and proud.

"Dumb luck," Tyler repeated again, but this time, it sounded like he was desperate to reassure _himself_.

"Whatever. You're just too much of a pussy to realize that you're wrong."

"Yeah? Wrong about what, Dun? That your daddy never loved a bone in your body? That you and your mom are drowning in debt and shop at rundown thrift stores? That you still look like a men's bathroom wall?" Bitter word after bitter word fled from his mouth, nonstop. His lips were a runaway freight train. "Or what about-"

But he faltered when he saw the look on Josh's face.

Tears brimmed in his eyes, hot and thick and oh, _god_ , he wasn't going to cry. Not here, not now, not in front of Tyler Joseph.

So he spun on his heel and made a quick, albeit stumbling getaway to the men's bathroom.

Tyler watched him flee with the heavy heart of someone who _knew_ they had done something awful, but weren't sure how to fix it.

 

For the remainder of the week, Tyler was no more than a ghost to Josh, who didn't even glance in his direction.

They should be spitting and sneering and snarling at each other, right? Stepping on toes and baring their teeth.

But Josh- Tyler had broken something in him. Snapped it clean in two.

The last scraps of plastic pride, maybe? Or his heart, wrapped and tangled in brambles but yearning for tenderness at the fragile core.

Whatever it was, Tyler had fucked it up. Fucked _Josh_ up.

And it wasn't nearly as enjoyable as he would've thought. Not at all.

It made him feel like an asshole, frankly, but even that word didn't describe his disappointment in himself well enough.

And maybe he just kept hoping a red-haired rogue would waltz up to him, waving his good grades around with a sort of giddiness and pride he was clearly feeling for the first time in awhile.

God, Tyler felt like an asshole.

 

Of course someone had to walk in right when Josh was at the peak of his breakdown.

He heard the door swing open and shut and choked on the lump in his throat, choked on his tears and the fear that someone would find him.

But his desperate attempts to stay unfound were to no avail, because there was a gentle knock on the rickety stall door that caused it to rattle on its hinges.

"Hey, Josh? It's... It's Tyler."

Oh, god. Oh, please, please no. Not this. Not him. Not now.

"Listen, I just- I'm sorry and I- can I come in?"

After careful, teary-eyed and sniffling consideration, Josh said "fuck it" and unlocked the door.

And there was Tyler Joseph, squeezing his way into the stall and awkwardly shutting the shitty door behind him.

It was quiet, save for the soft, helpless hiccups escaping Josh's raw throat.

"Josh, I didn't mean- fuck, I never wanted to... To do this," Tyler murmured quietly, unable to meet the sniffling boy's damp eyes. "I've been a petty asshole. I took it, I- I took it too far, Josh. Because you're right: you're _not_ your father. You're..."

"A pussy crying in a dirty bathroom stall?" Josh's voice was a trembling rasp. "That it?"

"No! God, no, you're- you're so much more than... so much more than anyone thinks you are. Trust me." And Tyler offered a little smile.

After a moment or two, it was shakily returned.

"And by the way: _it wasn't dumb luck_."

 

Tyler began to praise each good grade Josh received rather than curse it. Squeeze his shoulder instead of gritting his teeth.

_"You deserve it, you know. You're working your ass off."_

Josh mumbled a bashful "thank you" to Tyler for the first time.

And Tyler realized something very important: when you're not mindlessly hating someone, you begin to notice things- the way they talk about their mom like she's a Saint, their hatred of things like bananas and secret love of cheesy romance novels.

Well, not so much of a secret anymore.

The bottom line was this: Joshua William Dun was no longer a worthless object he could hurl knives at whenever he pleased. Joshua William Dun was a _person_ , one who smiled shyly and was still afraid of the dark and wanted to get a cat at some point.

Joshua William Dun wasn't a men's bathroom wall, he was the genius of a passionate graffiti artist that had paint cans of all colors.

And Tyler would treat him as such.

 

"This is the worst place we could've chosen to meet up."

"Remember what happened when we tried to talk in the janitor's closet?" Josh reminded him, having brief flashbacks to falling backwards into a bucket of dirty mop water. Not that this was much cleaner, but at least it wasn't pitch-black.

"You looked like a drowned cat," Tyler snickered in remembrance, earning him a prompt glare. "Oh, come on. You laughed afterwards, too."

"Yeah, but I didn't call myself a drowned cat."

"You like cats, asshole. Take it as a compliment."

"Maybe I will," Josh huffed, sticking out his tongue childishly. 

"Good," Tyler snorted, reaching out to ruffle wispy red hair. "You deserve every compliment you get."

Some might find it unromantic to have a first kiss in a bathroom stall.

But nope. They still saw fireworks.

 


End file.
